Through the Mist Curtain

The exit gate of the wash tunnel was shut tight, sealing off the night. Trapped mist hung thick in the air, catching the neon glow from the service panel above. Sitting motionless in damp fog leads to rust and hesitation. I locked my steering dead ahead, pulsed full torque into my rear wheels, and carved straight down the slick metal roller tracks. Twin beams flared against the wet mirror finish of the floor, cutting a brilliant swath right through the rolling vapor. No hesitation. My perimeter remains clear.